


Uniform Blue

by grafitti



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Police Uniforms, Post-Pacifist Ending, Self-Discovery, god damn i am on a roll today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grafitti/pseuds/grafitti
Summary: Connor takes off one black and blue uniform to put on a new one. Maybe a better one.





	Uniform Blue

Blue was a good color. It looked good on the Traci he'd met at Eden Club, and it shined gently in the plastic ring of his LED, the CyberLife triangle on his chest, and the thick, reflective band that wound itself around his arm. His suit was neat, impeccable even. The seams aligned perfectly with his body, the uniform having been tailored to fit him well.

“Can't believe you're still wearing that shit,” said Hank. “Weeks after the revolution and you're still dressed like their uptight receptionist.”

Connor pursed his lips as he thought about Hank's comment from weeks ago – and the man was right. He probably _was_ the only android left in the city wearing their CyberLife uniform. But it wasn't out of pride, or any love for the corporation – it was... It was just... It felt like himself. It was the uniform of someone created to serve, to fulfill their purpose, but... What really was his purpose now that CyberLife would no longer give him anything directive? He was free now – and he loved it – but what was freedom if he didn't know what to do with it? And it was really a nice suit – there was no use in wasting it.

“You supposed to figure that out for yourself,” Hank had told him. “Half the time, humans have a hard time figuring it out too.”

Connor nodded, silent as he ruminated over Hank's words, his LED thrumming a smooth yellow. In the weeks following the revolution, he downloaded several skill packages from the CyberLife network. He cleaned the Anderson household until it sparkled, repaired the faults in the walls and replacing the duct-taped window with a new pane of glass. He cooked meals for Hank without being asked – and started to push salads and apple slices onto his breakfast plates to lower his cholesterol and sodium intake. It kept him busy – it let him bide his time, but didn't move his mind and battery like working with Hank did. Although he never had an opinion on it before, he never thought he'd miss the taste of bright blue thirium on his tongue.

Other androids were happy to leave their predestined occupation – but Connor was only confused. Was it so strange for him to have enjoyed detective work and the role the CyberLife had etched out for his model? (But that left him conflicted – how can you enjoy something like deviant hunting when you later discover it to be morally repugnant?)

Once, Connor was folding laundry, and ironing out the kinks and wrinkles in the elbows of his CyberLife jacket and the clip area of his tie. Hank arrived home late in the night, his shoulders drooping from exhaustion and his shadowed eyes beleaguered with images from the case files he read. As Connor reached for the iron, Hank stopped him with a hand, and pulled his wrist back so that he could drop something in the deviant's palm. Seven sheets of paper , stapled diagonally at the corner, rested plainly between his fingers. It was an application for the Detroit Police Department, printed front and back in relatively tiny font on each page.

“I... Hank, this is...” Connor looked up at him, mouth ajar. “I thought you said I should figure out my purpose for myself. Something... Different than what CyberLife had intended.”

“I didn't say that last part, stupid,” groaned Hank. “CyberLife wanted you to serve them by hunting deviants. If you're still so god damn hung up on a quarter-life crisis -”

“Androids do not experience age stages or signals the same way that humans do, they -”

“Oh my god,” Hank rolled his eyes and pushed the papers into Connor's chest. “If you don't want to work for the DPD, that's fine, but you're never gonna figure anything out if you live like a housewife all day and don't try anything new.”

“...I wouldn't find this to be very 'new', considering that I have performed in the function of a police officer, particularly that of a detective, when -” Hank sighed into his hands, covering his face in annoyance.

“Just...” The older man stuck his hands in his pockets, and moved to the couch where he could pull Sumo's face into his knees for some pats and head rubs. “Just fill the fucking thing out, okay?” And then Hank fell asleep watching a highlight reel of yesterday's game, his light snores merging with the house's white noise.

Every morning after the revolution, Connor exited sleep mode, brushed off Sumo's fur from his pants, straightened his jacket and tie, and fiddled with his coin until it was time to prepare breakfast for Hank and take Sumo out on his walk. But this morning, Connor took off his uniform.

He stripped himself of his recently ironed jacket and placed it on a hanger. Carefully, he undid the knot in his tie and draped it around the stem, and hung his more-or-less cosmetic belt (since his trousers were well-fitted enough to render belts useless) by it's metal clasp on the stem as well. It was... strange. To fold up his clothes and put them away in the back of a closet. He didn't want to forget his origins, or the time he spent working with Hank, but it still felt like he was compartmentalizing and packing away a part of his identity. CyberLife created him to serve, and serve he will. But under a different cause. Unbidden, a smirk worked it's way across his mouth and he pulled a different hanger from the closet. Maybe it wasn't so bad to be putting this chapter of his life behind.

He belted his trousers and tucked in the undershirt that Hank gave him, careful to arrange his slick new shirt properly so that _C. ANDERSON_ showed prominently above his breast pocket. And last but not least, Connor smoothed back his hair to fit a dark, peaked cap sporting the DPD logo upon his head, his blue LED shining brightly just below the brim. The door to Hank's bedroom creaked, revealing Hank dressed in jeans and flannel, ready to go into work.

Connor turned to him, spreading his arms to show off his dark blue uniform.

“How do I look?”

“You look great, kid.” Hank snorted and threw a matching, dark DPD jacket for Connor to catch, and held out his shiny new badge to take. “Blue's your color.”

 


End file.
